


The 3-Minute Game

by Shipsterella



Series: The 3-Minute Game [1]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Consensual, Consent, Consent is Sexy, F/F, Intimacy, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 17:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12635391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shipsterella/pseuds/Shipsterella
Summary: Andy left Runway in Paris but somehow remained in Miranda's good graces and finds herself in the townhouse sometimes. As a guest. They hang out. As... friends?This is one of those times.





	The 3-Minute Game

**Author's Note:**

> Andy's POV. Thoughts are in italics.

We're sitting in Miranda's study. She's working on The Book while I write my article, well, I attempt to write my article. I sneak glances at her while she's deep in concentration as often as I can without drawing her attention away from her task. Her brow is furrowed as her icy blue eyes framed by her tortoise shell glasses scan the pages looking for any improvements to be made. Her mouth moves slightly, almost imperceptibly, as she reads and makes notes since she's not so closely guarded here in the privacy of her home, her sanctuary. I can never get used to the idea that I get the privilege of seeing her like this, unguarded and at ease. I cherish these casual, quiet nights.

"What's wrong?" Miranda asks, peering over her glasses, her face illuminated by the warm light of the lamp on her desk, making her look mythological. Timeless. Ageless. She'll never know what that does to me. I recover as quickly as I can to answer, to not keep her waiting. She hates waiting.

"This article I'm writing..." I move the laptop from my lap and place it on the table. I move to the well-stocked liquor cabinet and pour two glasses, mostly so I have something to do with my hands as I explain what I'm writing about in my latest assignment. "My latest article is about consent because of all of the sexual harassment scandals that have been in the headlines lately." I deliver her glass as I continue and she nods gratefully and takes a sip. I have to turn away before I can continue speaking. "I came across this incredible woman, Dr. Betty Martin, in my research and spent hours watching her videos and reading about her work. She's got so many titles but most of her work revolves around touch. In her video about the 'Bossy Massage' as she calls it, she discusses how often we receive things, such as a massage done in whatever way the masseuse chooses, because we're 'supposed to', whether or not it is actually pleasurable for us as the receiver. She did an exercise with a volunteer where she gave a massage but only in exactly the way the receiver asked for it, never more, never less, and only for seconds at a time so it couldn't become uncomfortable. The thing that really blew my mind was the person receiving the massage in the exercise didn't know what to ask for at first. She didn't know what she wanted. She felt pressured to just choose something, anything, to fill the silence. They discussed her difficulty with allowing herself to examine her desires, choose for herself, and voice it out loud. There was also talk of the importance of how our desires are voiced, whether by an unsure request posed as a question or a confident command. It opened my eyes to how often we go along with what we're given without any thought to what we would choose if we were given the opportunity. I mean, did any of your exes ask 'What can I do for you?' and actually allow you to receive it, solely for your pleasure?"

With my unintended question, I realized I had been pacing and rambling and Miranda was staring at me with wide eyes, mouth slightly parted. _Nobody asks Miranda anything, especially not something so personal._

"Sorry. I wasn't trying to pry. It's just fascinating and I don't know what direction I want to take this article yet but everything I found was extremely relevant and I can't stop thinking about it. I didn't mean to interrupt your work, though. I'll let you get back to The Book." I sat back down and reached for my laptop.

"No." Miranda quietly answered.

I looked up and set the laptop back on the table.

"Nobody has ever asked me that except you."

We both just sat there for several moments, lost in thought, separately remembering that night in Paris; unsure and unwilling to ruin the mood with a conversation about, well, **that**.

"What else did you find?" She eventually broke us both from our individual reveries.

"Well, The Wheel of Consent is what led my research to her in the first place but it's based on something called the 3-Minute Game, which is another concept I find fascinating. She didn't invent the 3-Minute Game but she's an avid supporter of it and uses a slightly different version than the original. It's a straightforward concept but simultaneously mind-blowing to think about. The basic concept is this: one person, person A, asks the other, Person B, 'How do you want me to touch you for 3 minutes?' The original version is 'What do you want me to do to you for 3 minutes?' but she specifies 'touch' so it's less vague. This part is all about Person A touching person B for person B's pleasure. Person A is supposed to ask him or herself 'Is that a gift I can give with a full heart?' If person B asks for something that person A is uncomfortable with, they negotiate until each person is comfortable and the 3 minutes of fulfilling the request begins. Then, Person B asks Person A the same question, 'How do you want me to touch you for 3 minutes?' and they repeat the negotiation process if necessary and fulfill Person A's request. Does that make sense?"

"Oh, yes. Perfect sense." Miranda answers, sounding slightly breathless and looking at me utterly transfixed. "Were there examples of requests?"

"There were." My mouth suddenly feels dry and I reach for my neglected drink as I quickly attempt to navigate the unexpected direction of this conversation.

"They ranged from 'scratch my head' to 'massage my feet' to 'would you spank me?' and even a 'I don't want to be touched right now'."

Miranda doesn't respond and looks a little lost in thought so I continue explaining. "Then, there's another round with a slight variation. This time, the question is 'How do you want to touch me for 3 minutes?'."

Her eyes dart to me suddenly.

"This round is all about being vulnerable enough to allow someone to touch you for their pleasure. Again, each person takes turns making the request, negotiating it if necessary, and fulfilling it for 3 minutes. The examples seemed more intimate, not less like I would have imagined, even though they weren't all sexual. 'I want to play with your hair.' 'May I touch your face?' 'I want to explore the skin of your chest down to your cleavage.'"

"I want to play." Miranda says quietly, unable to look me in the eye, even from across the room.

"Um, what?" spills out of my mouth before I can stop it.

"I would like to play." She states again, almost shyly, then moves from her desk to join me on the couch. "With you."

"I think that's a gift I can give you with a full heart." I say with a small grin, attempting to ease some of the tension as we settle to face one another. She makes eye contact at last, seemingly searching for something and nods.

"We can ask for anything and we have to stop after three minutes?" Miranda verifies.

"Anything. For three minutes." I confirm.

I reach for my phone, set a timer for three minutes, and turn to her with a warm smile, "Miranda," _I can't believe this is real and I'm about to say these words._ "How would you like me to touch you for three minutes?"

I'm met with silence. She's debating something. I wait.

"Will you put your arms around me and hold me?" She finally asks.

"Do you mean from behind?" I want to make sure I understand exactly what she wants.

"No. Just put your arms around me and let me put my arms around you."

_A hug. Miranda, who could have asked for the moon, wants a hug. Adorable._

I turn sideways on the couch, put my right leg against the back of it and my left on the ground, lean back against the arm of the couch with my arms open. She curls into me, turned slightly facing the room, her arms around my waist in the space between my back and the couch and buries her face in my neck. I reluctantly reach over to start the timer.

We sit there in silence. I can't help but lightly rub small circles on her back. She exhales heavily and I feel dampness on my neck.

The timer goes off and we release each other. She wipes her face as I reset the timer quickly before she can apologize. I can see it written on her face. I can't let her. I hold up the phone to show her "3:00" with an eager look on my face which prompts her to smile with relief and ask in return "How would you like me to touch you for three minutes, Andrea?"

I have to take a deep breath. _Those words... from that mouth..._

"Can you play with my hair?" I ask.

She smiles slightly and nods. We swap positions. She's leaned up against the arm of the couch and I sit in front of her. I set the timer and she starts gingerly playing with the ends. She reaches up and starts at the roots before combing her hand through the length of my hair this time. It feels heavenly and I can't help the small sigh that escapes me.

"Can you scratch my head, too?" I add.

She reaches back up and starts at my temples, gently raking her nails across my scalp before combing her fingers through the length of my hair.

"That's perfect." I'm so relaxed that I jump when the timer goes off. "There's no way that was three minutes!" I pout. Just a little.

Miranda chuckles lightly at me as I turn off the timer with more force than necessary and we rearrange ourselves to face one another again. I reset it before composing myself and turning to Miranda. "How would you like to touch me for three minutes?" I can feel my face heat up at the possibilities running through my mind as I wait for her reply.

"Would you allow me... one of the examples you gave..." She hesitated. I smiled reassuringly and reached for her hand, squeezing it lightly to encourage her. This time, she blushed. "I would like to explore your neck and upper chest from behind, like we were for playing with your hair."

I have to remember to breathe. I nod, scared to spook her with my exuberance over the prospect. We assume our previous positions with her behind me. I really don't want to start the timer, content to let her explore forever but that's not the game. We only agreed to three minutes. _Dammit._ I start the clock.

She reaches around with her left hand and lightly skims her fingers across my pulse point. I'm sure it's throbbing right now. My heart feels like it's going to burst out of my chest at any moment. I lean my head to the side, giving her more access. She repeats her movements once more before gently rubbing the entirety of her palm, fingers stretched but together, slowly down my chest, starting at my shoulder and ending at the v of my cleavage. Her hand is so soft. My body slumps further into hers. Her body is even softer. One of us sighs. I'm not sure which. Maybe both of us. She hasn't touched my breasts but I have never been so turned on in my life. She repeats the motion again using both hands this time. I melt. The timer sounds. I growl. _Or was that Miranda?_

I begrudgingly turn off the timer and stand up. Once again, I seek out the bar as a way to occupy my hands. _I've got to calm down. I'm writing a piece on consent. I can't be one of these monsters who accosts the unwilling object of my affection. Reel it in, Sachs._

I return to the couch and remain standing while I deliver another drink to Miranda, who looks up at me and my peace offering before accepting it. Our fingers brush and I gasp.

Miranda looks uncomfortable as she quietly asks, "Andrea, how would you like to touch me for three minutes?"

I hesitate. I know what I want to do but I don't want to make her more uncomfortable than she already is. _She's straight. She's in the middle of a divorce. She's at the top of her industry and I'm just a cub reporter. She could have any man she wanted. She's also the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen, will ever see, and I may never get this chance again._

I down the last of my drink and quietly voice my request. "Miranda, you can say no. If you're uncomfortable with what I am about to say, please say no."

She can tell I'm about to start rambling and cuts me off by raising her hand then gesturing for me to get on with it.

I take a deep breath in an attempt to strengthen my resolve. _Now or never._ "May I touch your face?" I say quickly, like ripping a verbal bandaid.

She immediately lets out the breath she was holding. _in relief? Exasperation? Disappointment? Oh, God._

She sharply nods once.

I refuse to keep her waiting for fear of losing my nerve or having her permission rescinded, quickly set the timer, and sit down next to her. I turn her to face me, start the timer, and turn to face her.

Her face. _Beautiful. Exquisite. Delicate. Striking. Perfect._ I simply stare for several moments.

I reach up and brush her cheek lightly. Her eyes are closed. I can see the nearly imperceptible lines around her mouth. I trace them gently. There are some more pronounced lines between her eyebrows. _Must be from concentrating so hard and intimidating minions so effectively._ I trace them slowly and continue after they've disappeared, down the length of her nose. The lines around her eyes draw me in next. _Her eyes are the most expressive thing about her, capable of telling you anything you want to know if you're willing to look hard enough._ I trace them reverently. Her eyes open. Our faces are so close that her mouth parts slightly in surprise. I respectfully give her a little distance. My eyes travel up from her mouth back to her eyes and in that instant, I can see everything I want to know. She must have seen the same thing in mine because she reaches up, rakes her nails lightly against my scalp as she runs her fingers through my hair before pulling me in for a kiss that leaves us both breathless but no longer unsure.

It seems that conversation we have been avoiding isn't necessary anymore. We both want the same thing: each other. _Not as friends._

We wordlessly agree to ignore the timer and focus on the gift each of us wants to give with a full heart.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested in the videos I talk about,  
> https://www.youtube.com/user/bmartinseattle/videos  
> It's all real. I'm in no way affiliated with any of it - just a fan.
> 
> This turned into something way different than when I started. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
